Friends with the Monsters (Friends with the Monsters, #1)

by Albany Walker

He’s pushed up his sleeves, baring his forearms: the sexy man equivalent of exposed cleavage.

A loud roar has me jerking back. “Holy shit, that was loud,” I mutter, then shout down, “Well, then, don’t go peeping into my house!” I close the pane quickly. “Jerk, it’s my window, and if I want to fuck it, I will!”

“Look at you,” Aeson coos at me. “You brought a man home, I’m so proud of you.” “Three.” I pull my jeans up and go on to my toes to get them over my hips. “Yes! I knew you were listening to me all these years.” She sighs wistfully, like a proud mother.

“She has no sense of self-preservation,” he announces to the room. I ignore him. I would only need self-preservation if I felt threatened, and I don’t.

“Quite simply, it means we’re all connected to you. Fated, if you will,” he answers. I drop my hand from my face and into my lap. “Fated for what?” Calix takes a few steps closer to our group. “Fated mates,” he announces.

I grab a hold of Grim’s arm and squeeze. “If they hurt her, I will hang them with their own entrails after I shred their souls.” “She’s perfect,” Gunnar whispers softly.

have no idea what he meant, but if he’s offering his soul, I’ll take it and hoard that shit like a dragon with treasure. I won’t ever let him leave me. I shake that thought away, scared that it even came from me.

Grim swats the side of his dick, and it sways slowly. My eyes are drawn to it like a fucking pendulum. “This is hard again; I’m in need of you.” I slap my hand over my eyes.

Grim reaches for my chin and plants his lips on mine. He slides his tongue across my bottom lip and lets out an appreciative hum, before pulling back just enough so his lips ghost over mine as he says, “I don’t need to be alone with you to claim you.”

“I only have so much patience, Omnia. If I have to watch you in another snare, I will probably lay waste to every witch I see, and that would grow tiresome.” “Sorry,” I singsong. “He’s so sweet,” I whisper to Aeson. “Oh yeah, he’s a fluffy ball of sugar,” she deadpans.